Justin
So far, the night has been excellent. No auras; no nervous feeling in my stomach. And I love Addie's family more than I love my own. Meeting her grandparents – all three of them – was a little scary, but it did better prepare me for meeting her parents.
I'll admit that I was fucking terrified of meeting her parents after my mom finished telling them about the complications I have, but they were both accepting. Something that I'm not used to, so I didn't know whether I should start crying hysterically or aggressively pinch my arm to wake myself up. Thankfully, I did neither, and I realized this is real. That this new sense of belonging is actually something I'm beginning to feel again.
It's weird and wonderous at the same time.
I'm so used to people instantly pushing me away like I'm infected with a deadly disease rather than hugging me and whispering in my ear that my secret is safe with them until I want to tell Addie.
I don't know how long it's been since I got here, but I'm now sitting on the floor with Addie, Sophia, Nadira, Jacey, and Jake and Alex, playing a board game called Aggravation that involves dice and marbles. I wasn't keen on playing it at first, but now I understand why it has that name. I swear to God Addie just plays the game to spite people. This is the third time all my marbles have been sent back to base, and the fifth time Sophia has thrown Addie's wig across the living room.
Maybe I'm being selfish, having fun and forgetting who I am and what's wrong with me, but I can't help it. I've never felt so normal; feeling normal is something I've wanted for years and now I'm beginning to remember what it was like before I was diagnosed.
I'm happy.
I'm laughing.
I'm having fun.
I wish this night would never end.
"Ugh," Addie says to Alex. "What did I ever do to you, Alex?"
Alex looks at Addie with disbelief. "Are you kidding me? You've sent at least one marble of mine back home each round!"
Addie grins, and it's a grin I've seen on her before – the cocky one that I adore. It only happens when she knows she's right or she's teasing someone. "Oops?" Addie asks, giggling.
I laugh along with her. I'd keep playing this game with her all night even if it meant getting my ass kicked.
Jake elbows me in the bicep. "My sister is evil. I don't know why you hang out with her." Though he says it jokingly, I know there's some underlying message there. Am I being too obvious with my crush on Addie?
To my dismay, I feel a slight burn in my cheeks and that the butterflies in my stomach activate. And along with that activation, I feel an obnoxious chill go down my spine.
Shit.
It really does look like all good things come to an end.
"Addie?" I ask quickly, trying to keep my tone even. "Where's the bathroom?"
Addie looks at me with those beautiful blue eyes and points at the stairs. "There's one upstairs, third door on the left." She points to the hallway. "Or there's one near the front door."
I forcefully nod my head and get up. "Be right back," I mutter.
Before anyone can say anything, I book it, all while trying to act normal.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I take the steps by two, frantically hoping no one is in the bathroom so I can lock myself in it for however long need be.
I'm at the second door when I realize I'm not going to make it.
Throwing my shoulder against the second door to the left, I crank the handle to the door and burst into the dark room, slamming the door behind me.
In the darkness, I let my mind go, saving myself some energy by letting the partial seizure take over my body.
The aura of fear in my gut becomes potent. My head becomes fuzzy and confused as to where I am, stealing whatever conscious movements I have – everything I do is subconscious. I don't know how I make it to the foot of the queen-sized bed or how my hands have the capability of gripping the white quilt. Or how I manage to bite my bottom lip until I taste blood, just to make sure not a single noise escapes my lips. But it all happens.
I'm unable to figure out how long it lasts, but when my mind returns to its consciousness instead of depending on subconsciousness, I feel like I've been slammed with a semi-truck. Sometimes I wonder why I'm so tired after having one, but the doctor's words always come back to haunt me.
"Nerve cells, called neurons, in the brain create, send, and receive electrical impulses, which allow the brain's nerve cells to communicate. Anything that disrupts these communication pathways can lead to a seizure. The brain is a highly complex electrical system, powered by roughly eighty pulses of energy per second. During a seizure these energy pulses surge, becoming as rapid as five-hundred per second."
No wonder I'm tired. My brain basically just ran a freaking marathon.
I drop my face into my hands, fighting back the oncoming tears.
It seems as though I'm not allowed to be happy; that every time I feel remotely normal and like I belong, the world disagrees and decides to use a shock doctrine on me and scare me back into place.
I flick on the lamp beside the bed. I'm never going to fit in. Unless there's a magical cure for epilepsy, I'm fucked.
A tear slips down my cheek.
Epilepsy is like terrorism of the brain – you don't know when it's going to strike, where you're going to be, who is going to witness it.
Epilepsy changes people like me. It sculpts us into someone who understands deeper, hurts more often, appreciates quicker, cries easily, hopes desperately, loves more openly, and lives more passionately.
Epilepsy makes us feel like we're a huge burden on friends and family who drive us places since we are unable to do so ourselves.
It does so many things that many people will never understand.
Looking down, I trace my finger over the long scar running perpendicularly along my wrist. I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering the day I tested the razor blade against my skin.
That day, I couldn't handle all the emotions I had bottled up inside me – I needed a release. New pain to make me forget about the current pain.
Not only does epilepsy make us prone to accidentally harming ourselves, but it also fills our heads with unwanted, dark thoughts.
When I gave myself this scar, it only took me a fraction of a second to realize what I was doing – how wrong I was. More pain isn't the solution to present pain. I swore I'd never purposely harm myself ever again, but sometimes I can understand why I would want to go back to that. The distracting pain is compelling.
Realizing I need to get my mind out of the gutter, I let my eyes wander the room I'm sitting in.
It only takes me a moment to realize I'm in Addie's room. If the girlish theme isn't enough, then the abundance of pictures makes it obvious.
Her room is painted a light grey and doesn't hold much furniture, save for the bed and nightstand. The main focal point in it is the window seat that overlooks the lake. An enormous number of books outlines the small alcove.
I get to my feet to explore the bedroom. The first aspect I look at is the wall of photos across from her bed. She's got very few of her friends, but tons of her family. I even see some that must be of her parents when they were younger.
One picture, in particular, catches my attention. The edges are yellowed and there's a tear in the side. Gently, I unpin the photo from the wall and inspect it. Addie's parents are sitting around a campfire, a background of cedars and stars, staring at each other lovingly. They don't look much older than me.
"That's the day Mom regained her memories."
I jump, the picture falling to the floor. Turning around, I see Addie in the doorway. With the guilt of trespassing pooling in my gut, I ready myself for an apology – I shouldn't have entered her bedroom without permission. I'm invading personal space.
Addie walks over and scoops up the picture. "Mom and Dad used to – still do, actually – dirt bike. October of their senior year, Mom and Dad, Aunty Elle, and Uncle Hart all decided to go on this big ride to a lookout point on the trails in Bear Creek. The clutch to Mom's dirt bike had been broken, so she had to take Grandma's quad." Addie runs her fingernail along the frame of the picture, focused entirely on the story. Almost as if she's part of it. "Anyway, on the trails, Dad's dirt bike broke down so he had to stop and fix it. Mom was terrified that he'd done something to injure himself so she turned around to try and find him." She shakes her head. "They ended up colliding on a sharp corner. Both needed to be taken to the hospital and were diagnosed as fine, minus a few injuries and each a concussion, until Dad suddenly collapsed. Turned out the mud was infected with a bacterium that caused gas gangrene – an infection that eats away at skin tissue – and it got into the lacerations on Dad's back. Mom was so distraught after she heard that Dad was fighting for his life that she ended up fainting and hitting her head on the floor of the hospital. I know it seems ridiculous, but she already had a concussion, so the extra hit was all it took for her to be knocked into a coma and wake up two months later with amnesia. She totally forgot about Dad. But she did remember him – months later."
I blink. Wow. Okay. I was not expecting a story like that between Addie's parents. "That's..." I say, at a loss for words. "That's...Wow."
Addie smiles at the picture. "I know, right? I admire Dad for staying beside Mom like he did; winning her back." She sighs and returns the picture to its rightful spot. "Don't tell anyone, but I've always wanted a love story like my parents'. Not written exactly the same, but similar. I don't want anyone getting amnesia because I know how hard it was for Mom to handle. But I want the same strength and love they have. I want to know that he's going to stay by my side no matter what."
I rub the back of my neck. "Your parents are amazing."
"Yeah," she sighs dreamily. When she's happy with the location of the picture, she looks at me with a teasing smile. "So did you get lost on your way back from the bathroom?"
"Y'know," I grin, "I could've sworn there was a door before the stairs."
The grin is fake. So fucking fake I hate myself. I'm lying to Addie, to myself. I should tell her the real reason behind why I ran off. After hearing the story about her parents, there could be even the slightest chance that she inherited the notion of staying beside someone like her dad did.
But I can't take the risk.
Addie sits down on the foot of her bed. "So," she beams. "What do you think of my bedroom?"
I jerk my thumb at the window seat. "I want that window seat."
She smiles at her hands. "It's one of the best spots in the house. I love sitting there and reading in the winter, a cup of tea beside me and steam streaking the window."
I almost groan. I don't know how long I've wanted a window seat for – maybe since I was five?
Sitting down beside Addie, I sigh. "Sorry – I got distracted. I know I shouldn't have come in here. How'd the game go?"
Addie nudges me in the ribs. "It's fine. I saw your room, so why shouldn't you be allowed to see mine?" She shrugs. "The game went as usual – Jake won. Little bugger always wins. Seriously, Sophia and I can never beat that kid. I think he cheats somehow. The only person that ever beats Jake is Jaymes."
I wrack my brain for a face to put to the name Jaymes, but I come up blank. I don't recall meeting him tonight. "Who's Jaymes?"
"Sophia's older brother. He's in Vancouver for university now. Don't see him much, but he'll be coming back for Christmas."
I nod.
"Do you have any siblings?" Addie asks.
My muscles tense. Telling her about Christian means telling her about the divorce my parents went through, and it's something I don't want to revisit. One day, if I ever work up the courage to do so, I will tell her, but for now, she's getting half the truth. "I do – a younger brother named Christian. He's twelve."
Addie seems extremely surprised by this. "Really? I didn't see him when I was over at your house."
"That's because he was staying with my father" – I choke on the word – "that week. After my parents divorced, the courts ordered fifty-fifty. Thank God I was old enough to make my own decision and stay with mom or else I may have lost my mind. I'm one of those people that needs a base, y'know? I can't stand packing up and moving somewhere else for two weeks, only to have to pack up again when I'm beginning to feel settled."
Addie looks horrified. "They make Christian travel from Cache Creek to West Kelowna every two weeks?"
I nod.
"That's ridiculous!" she exclaims. "Kids need stability, a home, a place they feel safe."
I roll my eyes. "Tell me about it. But the courts are like a business – they do what they need to in order to hold up their reputations. They also don't seem to care what kids have to say, but we can get into that another time."
"Poor kid," Addie says softly. "And your poor mom – I can't imagine what that's like for her."
"It's rough," I nod, "but we manage. It's all we can do."
Lapsing into silence, I notice how close we're sitting to each other. Shoulders are rubbing, thighs are pressed together, and I can smell Addie's perfume. It's almost intoxicating.
Out of the blue, Addie reaches out and takes my hand in hers. I'm surprised at how calloused her hands are. Then again, she does play basketball. "Justin?"
My eyes meet her blue ones. "Yeah?"
"If...If you ever want to talk about anything, I'm here for you. I'm guessing the divorce happened at least a couple of years ago, but that doesn't mean the pain isn't still there; we never learn to live with it, we just adapt. So if you ever want to talk, come to me."
I give Addie's hand a soft squeeze. "Okay."
God, I wish I truly meant that.
Addie smiles, the white and black markings on her face moving in sync with her facial muscles. I'm suddenly fighting to keep my hands by my sides and not cup her face. She has no idea how much her words mean to me. How much I want to hold her, trace her lips and cheekbones with my fingertips, how much I want to feel her body against mine.
"We should get back to the party," she whispers. "Someone will notice we're gone sooner than later."
She begins to get up.
I reach up, grasp her hand, and pull her down.
Addie's blue eyes widen in shock.
"They can wait a moment," I whisper.
I don't know where this confidence is coming from. Why I'm doing this when I shouldn't be.
I reach up and brush away a strand of the dark wig she's wearing behind her ear.
Addie takes a deep breath, suppressing a shudder when my fingertips graze her jawline. I hear her breathing quicken, and then I feel her hot breath on my lips as she leans in, as I lean in.
Warning bells are going off in my head. My scar itches to be touched; to act as a reminder that I am nothing but a burden.
But I can't stop myself. My self-control is null.
Our faces are inches apart. Addie's hands are on my shoulders. One of my hands is resting at the nape of her neck, the other on her hip. Just like the blackout moments I have during my partial seizures, I don't know how we got here; jumped from one time frame to the other.
But we're both waiting for the kiss, gazing into each other's eyes.
I hear Addie's lips part, as if she has something to say, and it's pure torture. Pure, intoxicating torture that I crave.
And then, it happens.
Addie's lips press against mine and any doubt that we might not have chemistry or fit together in this complicated world vanishes. Instantly, I slide both hands up to cup her face, to intensify the kiss.
She responds as hungrily, her fingertips running along my jaw, her breathing rapid.
I'm burning – burning to feel more of her, to have her wrap her legs around my waist.
But that can wait. For now, this is enough. Having her in my arms, kissing her – it's enough and it's definitely more than someone like me deserves.
By the time we're gasping for air, Addie's cheeks are pink and I can feel sweat building beneath the wig.
Addie looks at me shyly and then looks down at her hands, softly giggling. "We should really get back to the party now."
"Yeah," I rasp. "We should."
Addie smiles and stands, holding her hand out to me. I take it, and she helps me up.
As we walk to the door of her bedroom, I can't help but wonder what this means.
That kiss wasn't just a kiss – something is happening between us whether we like it or not. My heart is pounding, adrenaline is ripping through my blood.
I glance at Addie. She's got two fingers pressed to her lips and I swear to God her hand is shaking.
Though I should feel guilty and selfish for what I've allowed to happen, I don't. Addie is the first thing I've been happy about for a long time. After all the fucked-up shit that's gone on in my life, I think I deserve to have a chance at something like this. But the thing is, my life is one big contradiction. Although I want this to happen between us, I also don't want to add the weight of being a burden onto Addie's shoulders.
But when she smiles at me, everything is forgotten.
Addie is like a beacon in the dead of night. The first star in the night sky. The light at the end of the tunnel.
Hope.